


The Secrets of Conduit Street

by TheGeekyFangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:39:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGeekyFangirl/pseuds/TheGeekyFangirl
Summary: Moran and Moriarty have found each other, the only thing left is to Get Sherlock.  Life in 221B might be interesting, but not nearly so as life at Conduit Street."Welcome to hell, 'Sebby'." he hissed the pet name.





	1. Application

Jim Moriarty was sitting in his flat, admiring his priceless paintings (mostly of the stars), and waiting for his first and only applicant to buzz.  He walked over to the coffee table, reviewing the profile.  “Sebastian Moran…” he said to himself.

xxx

Sebastian Moran fixed his tie, luckily he still had a few nice clothes.  He needed a job, rent was overdue, and his whiskey was gone.  He checked his watch, ten minutes early, and pushed the buzzer to be let in.  This was definitely the fanciest meeting he’s had for a ‘job’, which he assumed was just more freelance work.  He had made quite the name for himself.  

xxx

Hearing the buzzer, he walked over to answer.  They had set up a code prior to the meeting.  “Holier Realty, how may I help you?”  He waited for the matching answer.  His Irish accent had disappeared, replaced with something along the lines of English and German.  

  
Sebastian couldn’t help but smile slightly.  “I’ve come to purchase the house on Downing.” he said clearly.  Though something about the man’s accent was off.  Perhaps the man had moved when he was younger causing the accent to be something he couldn’t quite pinpoint.  

  
The door clicked, and he was let up.  Moriarty waited patiently in the kitchen next to the front door.  A knock echoed through the silent apartment.  Upon opening it, he realized just how small he was in comparison.  

  
God, he could use a cigarette, or even a drink.  It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to doing an interview for a job, but someone living in a place like this, had to mean something big.  A big job meant big payment. He agreed on using the last bit of money in his pocket to get a pack of cigarettes after the interview.  

  
Moriarty assessed the man.  Strong, smoking and drinking habit, though that didn’t seem to decrease his stamina.  Well trained and well disciplined.  “Jim Moriarty.  Come in.”  His Irish accent was in full force again.  He didn’t shake the man’s hand, but instead walked over to the black leather couches of the living room.  He sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and waited for the interviewee.

  
“Sebastian Moran.” he responded. Sure Jim knew his name already, but it’s all standard in an interview.  He followed and chose to sit in a chair across from him.  

  
“I’m aware.”  His eyes cut into him, seeing all that remained invisible to others.  Except maybe one...maybe.  “Tell me what your credentials are to be here in this flat.”

  
Sebastian was accustomed to being sized up, having the people who hire him try and read him.  However, something about the way Jim looked at him made him feel that maybe he could read him.  He shifted slightly in his seat.  “Of course.  Served twelve years in the military, I was a colonel.  Dishonorable discharge, but it’s not like that matters in our line of work, now does it?  I’ve done three years of freelance work, obviously I’m known by the right people for what I do, or you wouldn’t have my name in the first place.”  He leaned back in his chair, a cocky smirk on his face.

   
“Hm,” is all Moriarty said for the time being.  A silence permeated the air, mostly because he wanted to see how the ‘colonel’ would react.  

  
Sebastian sat quietly, looking Jim over.  He definitely wasn’t used to such a response.  This is the point where his normal interviewer would be at least a little impressed.  Not just giving a single word, or, less than a word actually.  God, he could really use that cigarette, or two.  Sebastian loved silence, when it was needed.  But that wasn’t now, and at the moment he hated this.  After a moment, “So your thoughts?” he finally asked.

  
Jim Moriarty loved playing with people’s minds, it was a favorite pastime of his.  He could tell this was killing the soldier.  Time to play a game.  “Tell me about your school history.”

  
“Sc-school history?” Sebastian looked at him slightly confused and aggravated.  Nonetheless, he answered.  “I did...fine.  I suppose.  Enjoyed sports and a good fight.  I did take a shine to history.  But, with all due respect, I don’t see what this has to do with the job.  You do know what people hire me for, right?”

  
“Hm.”  He raised his eyebrows and frowned.  This was going to be fun, poking into the mind  of his most qualified applicants, past and present.  “I’m well aware.”  He paused, maintaining steady eye contact with him.  “And you know how I am, I presume.”

  
He smiled and gave a chuckle.  “There’s talk. I’ve heard the name Moriarty floating around a bit.  When you’re in this business, the good ones get mentioned.  For example.”  He gestured to the both of them.  Of course he had heard of Moriarty, never pictured him being so small, but didn’t want to press his luck by making that joke.  

  
“Family.” he posed the question as a statement.  

  
Sebastian sighed.  “Parents are both gone.  I have one older brother who is still in the military.  We don’t talk.  Something about me being a ‘disappointment and a drunk’.”

  
Moriarty considered the fact that both his parents were gone.  He almost asked about it, but thought of something better.  “Sherlock Holmes, tell me what you know.”

  
Moran thought and gave a small shrug.  “He’s some little detective.  Helped Scotland Yard a bit.”  He paused a second.  “Is he your hit?  Because I have to say, for someone that close to officials, we may need to negotiate the price a bit more than the usual hit.”

  
“He’s an interest.”  He looked at him mildly, but was teeming with curiosity for this man.  “If you were to be hired, you would be living here, and moved out of your dingy flat.  You would get sufficient pay, and clothes to wear.  Is that enough?” he asked.  “And smoking would be outdoors only.” he added before the man could answer.

  
This caused a true laugh from Sebastian.  “Woah, wait.  Is this for more than a single hit?”  He leaned forward, unable to hid his interest.  Was this a real job offer?  He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to have a better living arrangement, even if he couldn’t smoke in it.  

  
“This would be a full time job ,yes.  However, I would reserve the right to fire you had I ever found you unqualified.” He noticed the interest.  “However any outside contact with  friends or others would be prohibited, due to security.”

  
Sebastian nodded along.  It seemed fair enough, if he couldn’t do the job then he would expect to be fired.  But he couldn’t help but laugh at the second part.  “Don’t have anyone anyways.  And I can assure you, I’m the best damn qualified man you’re going to find.  If you have to fire me, you may as well give up.”

  
Moriarty frowned once more. Perhaps it was adrenaline talking, perhaps he really was this ambitious.  But either way, he would be his boss, and he would have to learn respect.  “Well then, I suppose it’s settled.  I expect you sharp and ready tomorrow morning.” Getting up and smoothing the wrinkles out of his suit, he walked off to a corridor to their left.  

  
Sebastian smiled slightly and stood as well.  That went even better than he had planned.  He expected a handshake, one which never happened.  He watched Jim walk off.  “So I guess I”ll let myself out.” he muttered to himself.  

  
Jim walked to his room, and sat down.  Beginning to read, his mind kept slipping, wandering to the interview.  Perhaps he shouldn’t have given him the job so quickly.  Yet he couldn’t help but be intrigued.  He handled everything well.  


	2. Chapter 2

He waited by the door again, as he had one of his other men give Sebastian a key to the flat.  

  
Sebastian had arrived just as he was told.  He had taken the key from the other man, sizing him up as he did.  Though that was just in Sebastian’s nature.  It becomes instinct to size up those around you.  He slowly unlocked the door, unsure why he was shocked that it worked.  “Well home sweet home I guess.”  He dropped down his duffle bag that had a few items he didn’t want to part with.

  
At least he’s on time, Jim thought.  Though he hadn’t given a specific time, he was there early.  Which was good enough for him.  “I will show you too your room.”  He walked towards the same hallway he went through yesterday, and showed him through an empty door.  The room was empty save for a bed, nightstand, and closet full of new clothes.

He gave a small nod and picked up his duffle bag.  He looked around, trying to hide his awe.  It was definitely larger than his old room.  Hell, it was at least his room and another.  He sat down on the bed and started to empty his duffle bag.  It was a few old clothes that were still comfy, several guns and a couple knives, plus a few older photos. 

You may decorate it however you wish.  The clothes should be your size, and you’ll find shelves to store your...sentiments, in the closet.  Your first paycheck is in the nightstand.”  With that, he walked away, leaving Sebastian alone.  

Sebastian watched as he walked away.  He stood up and looked at the clothes in the closet, definitely thankful he brought a few of his old ones.  It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, quite the opposite.  They were too nice.  He began to put away his things.  Once that was done, he looked at his paycheck.  

  
Moriarty busied himself with making some toast.  Burnt, that is.  With a little bit of butter and jelly.  He heard what sounded like a bit of swearing coming from Moran’s room.  Smirking, he must have found his check.  He head allotted him 2,181 pounds per week.  Of course he wouldn’t use all of it, but he figured he should be a bit generous to his new right hand man.  

  
After everything was put away and Sebastian had come down from the shock of the amount of money, he decided to check out the rest of the flat.  Once he stepped out of the room, he could smell burning toast and decided the kitchen would be the first place to go.  Wouldn’t be too great for his first day in a new place that his boss/flatmate burns it down trying to make toast.  

  
He heard the footsteps before he saw him.  Smothering his toast in the jelly, he said, “You may help yourself to anything in the upper compartment of the fridge.  Do stay out of the bottom.”

  
His eyes shifted from looking over the too burnt toast covered in too much jelly to the fridge.  Sebastian’s head cocked slightly, as he looked down to the bottom compartment.  He couldn’t help but wonder what it was.  Perhaps once he settled in he’d be able to sneak a peek.  “Of course.”  He walked over and looked through the allowed part of the refrigerator.  

  
Noticing his curiosity, he wondered how long it would take him before he couldn’t stand it anymore and look.  He decided he would have to bug the kitchen.  “Otherwise welcome to the flat.  The soundproof room is down that corridor.”  He pointed to another hallway.  “Used for interrogation, torture and the like.  Explore if you wish.”

Following his finger down the hall, he laughed to himself.  “What the hell kind of house have I moved into?”  Though he didn’t sound shocked or scared, far more amused than anything.  He turned his attention back to the fridge and started getting things out for breakfast.  “Who does your shopping?” he asked casually.

  
“You do,” he said simply.  “Sometimes I’ll go with, but I find it terribly domestic.  Boring.”  Taking a bite of his toast, crunching into it, he looked at Moran to gauge his reaction.

  
“You know I’m a hitman, right?  If you were looking for a maid I’m a bit overqualified.”  He mumbled as he started to look for a skillet so he could start on his eggs.  He found the utensils that he needed and started to cook, not looking back to Jim.  “Do you want something too?  Burnt toast isn’t really a good meal.  Or a meal at all.”  

  
“‘M fine.” he said, taking another bite.  After swallowing, he spoke.  “In terms of business, your first hit will be Monday.  Today is Saturday.  Of course ammunition and rifles are covered had you find yourself needing something more than you have.”  

  
The pan sizzles from the two eggs.  “I have some gear of my own.”  He scrambled them up.  “I’ll need some info on the hit, though I’m sure you have all that laying around somewhere.  What he likes, where he frequents, friends...family.”  He moved the eggs to the side and added a few links of sausage.  “Once I’m fully briefed I can get you a list of what I need...if I need anything.”   He turned to Jim.  “Plates.”

  
“Second cabinet on the left.”  Thinking for a moment, he told him, “His name is Fleurcole.  Pierre Fleurcole.  A prominent French businessman, threatening my own line of work.  Something of a copycat.  Not near as well dressed either…”  Finishing up his toast, he rinsed the plate in the sink, and then placing it in the dishwasher.

  
Sebastian listened quietly as he made his plate, nodding along and chuckling.  “Sounds simple enough.  Rich businessman, he’s going to be cocky, feel he’s untouchable.” Taking a bite of his food he turned back to Jim.  “The rich cocky ones are my favorite.  Don’t get them too often.  Takes a rich businessman to take out another with a hitman though.  And well, to be able to afford it too.”  He laughed saying this, before taking another bite of sausage.  

  
“Well I hope it will be successful.  You know the consequences if it isn’t.”  

  
“You don't’ need to worry about the consequences.  I always make my hit, Jim.”

  
“It’s ‘Boss’, first of all.  Even Moriarty.  Never ‘Jim’.”  He said bluntly.  Beginning to hum, Moriarty leaned against the counter.  “Tell me about yourself.  Tell me how you came to be a freelancer.  Obviously someone of your...caliber...should have been hired sooner.”  He looked him up and down.  “And with your need for it.”

  
“Sure...boss.” he sighed, finishing his eggs. “After being discharged I needed work. Family practically disowned me. Full of military people, so the discharge was like a shame to our name or some shit. And no one wants to hire a homeless man with my record. So I did what I could. Got paid to hurt people and eventually to kill them. Killing pays a hell of a lot better. I didn't mind being my own boss. But then I heard the very own Moriarty had an interest in me. And I thought, rather work for him rather than against. Besides, doubt anyone could outbid you anyways.” He smirked down at the man, putting his plate in the sink.

  
“You say you did it because you needed to...yet something tells me you enjoy it. The killing that is.” Walking around the kitchen, he realized he had forgot to put on his shoes. He was walking around in his socks. Frowning, he hoped Moran hadn't noticed. “What made you like it.” Genuinely curious, he had always wondered what made others want to watch the life die out of someone. Him, simple chemical imbalance that he rather enjoyed. But Moran, it seemed to be different, more difficult to explain.

  
Sebastian watched him walk around. He noticed his boss was padding around in his socks, but didn't think much of it. It was his flat after all, so he was free to wear what he liked. “There is a certain, rush to it.” he sighed again. “It was the same reason I enjoyed the war. There's a thrill in it. And the harder...the bigger the rush.” He looked down at his hand, making a fist, and then relaxing it again. “Sometimes I get a high that I just can't get again. War was that for me. I loved it...Hell, I miss it. This is the closest I got.”

  
“Hm.” he pondered this notion. Noticing the man make a fist, he smiled just a bit. The first, save a couple smirks shot at him. “May I ask, why did you get discharged?” There were no mind games this time. It was a genuine question. However, he knew it might be a sensitive topic. It was a risk he was willing to take. He didn't like not knowing.

  
Sebastian smiled, to Jim's surprise. “I was out with some of my buddies. We were all drinking and having a good time. We were playing poker with some locals. One said I was cheating. And things got...heated.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It's a bit of a blur after that, but I know at one point four of my men were pulling me off him and his throat was being crushed under my hand. Covered in blood too.” He have a small laugh that was something of a small exhale. “Guess I'm lucky I didn't end up in prison.”

  
Moriarty was surprised, not just at the story, but his relaxed feel about it. He assumed it would have been more sensitive. Well, God knows what they say about assuming. Better than to read than to rely on feeling. “Lucky indeed.” He took a few seconds before going on. “Was this person your first kill? Not on military terms of course.”

  
“I was in a war. I've killed a lot of people. Murder is murder. But yes, this was my first 'non military' kill.” He could tell that this wasn't what Jim had expected, and something about that made him feel almost...giddy...on the inside. Or at least how much a middle aged, ex military man could be giddy. He had caught Jim off guard, and the best part was, he wasn't even trying.

  
He was getting to full of himself at the moment. He knew what he had to do, but wanted just one more answer. “Try and read me.” Moriarty wanted to assess his intellect. Standing up just a little straighter, as he would be with clients, put his hands in his pants pockets, and cocked his head.

  
Sebastian swallowed hard and followed suit, standing up straighter and looking down at him. “You like being in charge. Which is obvious. You don't like having your hand in the dirty work, but you like to be in control of all of it. But something tells me you were not always like that. You don't just start out on top. You like to pick people apart. Like you've been doing to me. The army taught me a bit about reading people, and I can see you doing it, Ji-Moriarty. But you're a complete natural at it.”

  
“Very good. Except you have one thing just slightly off.” Picking up a kitchen knife from the block, he twirled it in his hand. “I didn't always have someone to do the dirty work for me.” And with that, he threw the knife across the room, which was about a good thirty five feet from where he was standing. It landed with a thud, right between a copy of Mona Lisa's eyes. “You and I are more similar than I'd like to believe. But remember who's boss, why don't you. However there are the differences. I practice restraint, you have rather unrestrained anger management issues. I get the thrill before the kill, you get it during and after. And you, Moran,” he walked closer, beginning to circle him, spinning him in his web of truth, looking him up and down. “You can't even begin to perceive the things I can.” Moriarty walked to reclaim his blade. “Welcome to Hell, 'Sebby'.” He hissed the pet name.


	3. Chapter 3

At first, Sebastian smiled just slightly at the small praise. For a man who lives his life rebellious, damn if he still doesn't enjoy praise. His throat caught as he had watched the smaller man pick up the knife and send it flying across the room. This wasn't just a happy little chat anymore, was it even one to begin to begin with? His eyes shifted from the blade now resting in the wall, back down to his new boss. He leaned in even closer. “I've been to Hell before, boss. If this is intimidation, you'll have to up it a bit more.” He lifted his shirt revealing his still impressive physique and more impressive scars. He knew he was still bluffing, Jim was the king of the Underground, and Sebastian knew it. He knew that Jim wasn't someone to test or taunt, but hell, he loved it. Where would bet the fun if he didn't try and taunt the devil just a little bit.

Jim was taken aback at first.  Not only at the numerous amount of scars, but the incredible anatomy the man had.  No, Jim, focus.  He had to tell this to himself a couple of times before he realized what Moran was trying to do.  What he had said.  He chuckled, then started laughing.  Not an amused laugh, not even an ‘I want to kill you’ laugh.  This was pure psychosis.  He wanted to challenge Moriarty?  Alright.  Time to play.

A smart man would be terrified of Moriarty.  And it wasn’t that Sebastian wasn’t a smart man, he was just desensitized to it.  Once you’ve been tortured, and almost dead, it doesn’t scare you.  That doesn’t mean that he didn’t feel a complete chill through his body at the laugh that came from Jim.  It sounded like death itself.  He leaned back just slightly on the counter again, as casually as he possibly could.  However, something told him he should be on guard at all times now.  

Moriarty walked nonchalantly over to him, the laugh still hanging in the air.  The smile was back.  His head tilted down and to the side.  His eyes glinted with insanity.  Something in the back of his mind told him to quit, that Moran didn’t need to see this side just yet.  He shushed that part.  It was playtime, after all, and he hadn’t had playtime in quite a while.  “Sebby, Sebby, Sebby.” he scolded, the smile still shining.

Sebastian watched his new boss.  It was like a switch in his head.  Was Jim playing right back?  He wondered how far Jim would take it.  He forced himself to stand up straight again.  “Yes, boss?”  His eyebrow twitched.  “Have I done something wrong, sir?”

“You need to learn some manners.” he told him.  He carried the makeshift dagger, closing in on Sebastian.  “And we all know there’s only one way to teach that, don’t we?”  Before Sebastian could register him moving, the kitchen knife went whizzing past his head, possibly cutting a few stray hairs.  “Let’s see if you can do it, shall we?”  His smile disintegrated into nothing, like it had never been there.  “Let’s see if you can flip the switch back.  If you win, you live.  If you lose, you die.  Simple enough game, hm?”

The dagger flying past his head caused his breath to hitch.  His head tilted, almost like Moriarty’s.  “Going to kill the hitman you just hired?” he chuckled, cracking his neck one way and then the other.  “I assure you, don’t mistake my wit as disrespect, sir.”  He gave him a small smile.  “It’s friendly banter, but I am promising you that my loyalties will lie with you.  You ask me to jump, and I’ll ask ‘how high’.  You point out a hit, and I’ll take him out with ease and grace.  You can kill me, but you won’t find another like me.  I’m cocky because I’m just that damn good, sir.”  

“You see, here’s the thing,” he said, easing into a casual stance.  What he was saying, however, was anything but casual.  “My mind is like a computer, and right now there’s a virus.  So I don’t care whether or not if I kill you.”  Reaching into his left sleeve with his right hand, he pulled out a small blade that had been attached to his forearm.  Wielding it with ease, he began again.  “So if you want to live, get the virus out.”  Sebastian didn’t realize it, but this was a plea.  A plea for help.  He hated when the insanity got to this point.  Common sense went to the wayside, and in some ways, this was a test.  Moriarty needed someone to help him.  To save him.   
   
Was that a hint of need in his voice?  “I see.”  He eyed the dagger.  “I’ve been on the wrong side of a knife many times, sir.”  He stepped forward.  “If I get stabbed, I get stabbed.  But I can assure you that you won’t kill me.”  Leaning in a bit, his mind was clicking into soldier mode, high alert.  “You may try, but I have a switch too, sir.  And you hired me for a reason.  I’m sure you know that I can protect myself, even from you.  It’s why you chose me.  The others, you probably already had several ways to kill them.”

Jim didn’t move.  Not because he was scared, precisely the opposite.  He locked into Sebastian’s eyes, letting him see the madness build.  Eyes were windows to the soul after all.   If he had one.  “I wouldn’t be too sure I couldn’t kill you, Sebby.” he hissed the name once more.  “So will you play?  Or are you just going to stand there.”  He sincerely hoped he would play.  

Sebastian stared into his eyes, unmoving.  Jim’s dark gaze seemed to surround him and swallow him.  “We are already playing, sir.” His voice was low and yet still calm as he moved in closer.  “I’m a gentleman.  Make your move first, boss.”  A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, his own pupils growing wider.    
He lunged at Sebastian’s throat, keeping the blade away for now.  He may not have been as strong as the other man, but he was just as skilled.  Realizing this was the first time they had physical contact, his muscles were tense.   
   
Sebastian grabbed him without a second thought.  His hand gripped bruisingly to Jim’s forearms as he pushed him roughly against the wall.  “Try that again and your ass will be on the floor...boss.” he growled through gritted teeth.  He would say he didn’t enjoy this, but he would be lying.  He would also say he wasn’t paid enough for this, but he would still be lying.

The dopamine in Jim’s brain was activated, sending shots of a high without a drug coming on.  Although, some would say later on that Sebastian was his drug.  Smiling as he was pushed to the wall, he kneed him in the gut.  Once he was instinctively doubled over and his head was lower, he realized he was still clinging to the dagger.  He tried bringing it down on the man.  

Sebastian grunted and backed up slightly.  But the distraction of the pain was gone once he saw the smaller man coming at him again.  He quickly grabbed for him and brought him to the floor.  “Fucking Christ!” he growled, taking the extra push of slamming Jim’s arms to the floor.  “Drop it before I make you!”  He glared into Jim’s eyes, his own pupils blown, pushing his baby blue irises to small rings.  

Jim saw his eyes.  How cute.  Pupil expansion maxed out, and he was looking at him.  How funny, normally they should have decreased in size as the fight began, his instincts taking over.  He would put that away for later.  Right now he was pinned.  Thinking quickly, he still held the blade.  His arms were no use, his words and legs would have to do.  “Make me, then.”  He was interested to see what would happen.  A smart man would’ve given up.  Not that he wasn’t smart, he was crazy.  Pain didn’t faze him anymore.  

Sebastian grinned at the challenge.  Oh god, how he loved this.  He shouldn’t love this as much as he did.  This wasn’t normal in any way.  He slid Jim’s arms above his head to pin them with a single hand and brought the other to his throat.  “Been awhile since I’ve been this close.  Want to feel the life leave your body with each breath?  I suggest you let go of the knife.” His grip tightened, not enough to hurt anything, but enough to serve a decent warning.  

Instead of being afraid, he enjoyed it, his smirk challenging him to squeeze harder.  He still gripped the dagger.  There was a lot Moran had to learn about him.  One: he wasn’t scared of him.  Two: he enjoyed this all too thoroughly.  And three: he almost wished Moran would kill him.  He managed to hiss at Sebastian; “Well you’re a little rusty.” It could have been the last words he said, but he was nearly positive he wouldn’t actually kill him.  

Sebastian’s grip tightened.  He didn’t want to kill Jim, oh no, he was far too interesting.  Besides, he didn’t truly see Jim as a threat.  Exciting?  Yes.  But not a threat.  However, he wasn’t opposed to choking him until he passed out.  An unconscious man tends to be much calmer, Sebastian knew that from experience.  He leaned into Jim, their lips almost touching.  “You’re playing a deadly game...boss.  Now I’d let go of the fucking knife if you want to breathe again.”  His voice was a low raspy whisper.

The smile nearly disappeared.  Nearly.  There was still a remnant as he gasped.  Sebastian was threatening, he’d give him that.  The light-headedness was a nice sensation, almost knocking him to his wits.  When he opened his eyes, Sebastian was daringly close.  Jim twirled the knife around in his hand, so that it pointed at him.  “Eheh,” he choked out.  “Check.”  He loved chess, but even more so when played with people.  If he were to continue strangling him, he could cut his arm at any point.  Maybe not enough for him to let go, but enough to do something.  The voice in the back of his head came back.  ‘He’s close, can’t you feel his heartbeat…’, and he could.  It was elevated.  

This time it was Sebastian’s turn to laugh.  “You think a little knick is going to stop me?  Jim, I can crush your windpipe right now.”  He tightened his grip to drive the point home.  “Make me bleed.” he dared, grinning, his face still dangerously close to the other’s.  “It won’t stop a thing.”  His heart was racing as blood rushed through his whole body.  He felt so alive when he was in danger and close to death.  It’s the only way he wanted to live.  The adrenaline pumping through him.  It was the best feeling.  It’s why he did what he did.  

“I-told...you not-to call-me...Jim.” He choked on his own name.  He did as best he could to drive the knife into Sebastian’s arm, and watched him get off on it.  He saw Sebastian’s eyes light up.  And for a moment, he was glad he was the one that did it.  After that, he let go of the dagger, and allowed himself one last look at the sniper, if he were not to release his hold on his neck.  Nevertheless, if felt like he was riding a wave.  A dangerous, oxygen deprivation induced wave.    
Sebastian hissed at the stab.  He could sew it up later, he decided.  HIs whole arm began to burn as he felt blood running down to his hand.  This made his head spin just from the rush.  He was used to pain, and far worse.  As he heard the dagger clink on the kitchen floor, he let go of Jim’s neck, sitting up.  His breathing was heavy and he just noticed the light layer of sweat across his brow.  

Jim gasped for the breath he did not have.  His own hand went up to his neck, lightly touching it.  Looking over at Sebastian, he coughed desperately.  That stupid smile was returning, but this time it was more genuine, like he had just enjoyed every moment of what just happened.  Which, he had.  Taking a few minutes to regain his breath, he began snickering as he coughed.  


	4. Chapter 4

At first, Sebastian smiled just slightly at the small praise. For a man who lives his life rebellious, damn if he still doesn't enjoy praise. His throat caught as he had watched the smaller man pick up the knife and send it flying across the room. This wasn't just a happy little chat anymore, was it even one to begin to begin with? His eyes shifted from the blade now resting in the wall, back down to his new boss. He leaned in even closer. “I've been to Hell before, boss. If this is intimidation, you'll have to up it a bit more.” He lifted his shirt revealing his still impressive physique and more impressive scars. He knew he was still bluffing, Jim was the king of the Underground, and Sebastian knew it. He knew that Jim wasn't someone to test or taunt, but hell, he loved it. Where would bet the fun if he didn't try and taunt the devil just a little bit.

Jim was taken aback at first.  Not only at the numerous amount of scars, but the incredible anatomy the man had.  No, Jim, focus.  He had to tell this to himself a couple of times before he realized what Moran was trying to do.  What he had said.  He chuckled, then started laughing.  Not an amused laugh, not even an ‘I want to kill you’ laugh.  This was pure psychosis.  He wanted to challenge Moriarty?  Alright.  Time to play.

A smart man would be terrified of Moriarty.  And it wasn’t that Sebastian wasn’t a smart man, he was just desensitized to it.  Once you’ve been tortured, and almost dead, it doesn’t scare you.  That doesn’t mean that he didn’t feel a complete chill through his body at the laugh that came from Jim.  It sounded like death itself.  He leaned back just slightly on the counter again, as casually as he possibly could.  However, something told him he should be on guard at all times now.  

Moriarty walked nonchalantly over to him, the laugh still hanging in the air.  The smile was back.  His head tilted down and to the side.  His eyes glinted with insanity.  Something in the back of his mind told him to quit, that Moran didn’t need to see this side just yet.  He shushed that part.  It was playtime, after all, and he hadn’t had playtime in quite a while.  “Sebby, Sebby, Sebby.” he scolded, the smile still shining.

Sebastian watched his new boss.  It was like a switch in his head.  Was Jim playing right back?  He wondered how far Jim would take it.  He forced himself to stand up straight again.  “Yes, boss?”  His eyebrow twitched.  “Have I done something wrong, sir?”

“You need to learn some manners.” he told him.  He carried the makeshift dagger, closing in on Sebastian.  “And we all know there’s only one way to teach that, don’t we?”  Before Sebastian could register him moving, the kitchen knife went whizzing past his head, possibly cutting a few stray hairs.  “Let’s see if you can do it, shall we?”  His smile disintegrated into nothing, like it had never been there.  “Let’s see if you can flip the switch back.  If you win, you live.  If you lose, you die.  Simple enough game, hm?”

The dagger flying past his head caused his breath to hitch.  His head tilted, almost like Moriarty’s.  “Going to kill the hitman you just hired?” he chuckled, cracking his neck one way and then the other.  “I assure you, don’t mistake my wit as disrespect, sir.”  He gave him a small smile.  “It’s friendly banter, but I am promising you that my loyalties will lie with you.  You ask me to jump, and I’ll ask ‘how high’.  You point out a hit, and I’ll take him out with ease and grace.  You can kill me, but you won’t find another like me.  I’m cocky because I’m just that damn good, sir.”  

“You see, here’s the thing,” he said, easing into a casual stance.  What he was saying, however, was anything but casual.  “My mind is like a computer, and right now there’s a virus.  So I don’t care whether or not if I kill you.”  Reaching into his left sleeve with his right hand, he pulled out a small blade that had been attached to his forearm.  Wielding it with ease, he began again.  “So if you want to live, get the virus out.”  Sebastian didn’t realize it, but this was a plea.  A plea for help.  He hated when the insanity got to this point.  Common sense went to the wayside, and in some ways, this was a test.  Moriarty needed someone to help him.  To save him.   
   
Was that a hint of need in his voice?  “I see.”  He eyed the dagger.  “I’ve been on the wrong side of a knife many times, sir.”  He stepped forward.  “If I get stabbed, I get stabbed.  But I can assure you that you won’t kill me.”  Leaning in a bit, his mind was clicking into soldier mode, high alert.  “You may try, but I have a switch too, sir.  And you hired me for a reason.  I’m sure you know that I can protect myself, even from you.  It’s why you chose me.  The others, you probably already had several ways to kill them.”

Jim didn’t move.  Not because he was scared, precisely the opposite.  He locked into Sebastian’s eyes, letting him see the madness build.  Eyes were windows to the soul after all.   If he had one.  “I wouldn’t be too sure I couldn’t kill you, Sebby.” he hissed the name once more.  “So will you play?  Or are you just going to stand there.”  He sincerely hoped he would play.  

Sebastian stared into his eyes, unmoving.  Jim’s dark gaze seemed to surround him and swallow him.  “We are already playing, sir.” His voice was low and yet still calm as he moved in closer.  “I’m a gentleman.  Make your move first, boss.”  A small grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, his own pupils growing wider.    
He lunged at Sebastian’s throat, keeping the blade away for now.  He may not have been as strong as the other man, but he was just as skilled.  Realizing this was the first time they had physical contact, his muscles were tense.   
   
Sebastian grabbed him without a second thought.  His hand gripped bruisingly to Jim’s forearms as he pushed him roughly against the wall.  “Try that again and your ass will be on the floor...boss.” he growled through gritted teeth.  He would say he didn’t enjoy this, but he would be lying.  He would also say he wasn’t paid enough for this, but he would still be lying.

The dopamine in Jim’s brain was activated, sending shots of a high without a drug coming on.  Although, some would say later on that Sebastian was his drug.  Smiling as he was pushed to the wall, he kneed him in the gut.  Once he was instinctively doubled over and his head was lower, he realized he was still clinging to the dagger.  He tried bringing it down on the man.  

Sebastian grunted and backed up slightly.  But the distraction of the pain was gone once he saw the smaller man coming at him again.  He quickly grabbed for him and brought him to the floor.  “Fucking Christ!” he growled, taking the extra push of slamming Jim’s arms to the floor.  “Drop it before I make you!”  He glared into Jim’s eyes, his own pupils blown, pushing his baby blue irises to small rings.  

Jim saw his eyes.  How cute.  Pupil expansion maxed out, and he was looking at him.  How funny, normally they should have decreased in size as the fight began, his instincts taking over.  He would put that away for later.  Right now he was pinned.  Thinking quickly, he still held the blade.  His arms were no use, his words and legs would have to do.  “Make me, then.”  He was interested to see what would happen.  A smart man would’ve given up.  Not that he wasn’t smart, he was crazy.  Pain didn’t faze him anymore.  

Sebastian grinned at the challenge.  Oh god, how he loved this.  He shouldn’t love this as much as he did.  This wasn’t normal in any way.  He slid Jim’s arms above his head to pin them with a single hand and brought the other to his throat.  “Been awhile since I’ve been this close.  Want to feel the life leave your body with each breath?  I suggest you let go of the knife.” His grip tightened, not enough to hurt anything, but enough to serve a decent warning.  

Instead of being afraid, he enjoyed it, his smirk challenging him to squeeze harder.  He still gripped the dagger.  There was a lot Moran had to learn about him.  One: he wasn’t scared of him.  Two: he enjoyed this all too thoroughly.  And three: he almost wished Moran would kill him.  He managed to hiss at Sebastian; “Well you’re a little rusty.” It could have been the last words he said, but he was nearly positive he wouldn’t actually kill him.  

Sebastian’s grip tightened.  He didn’t want to kill Jim, oh no, he was far too interesting.  Besides, he didn’t truly see Jim as a threat.  Exciting?  Yes.  But not a threat.  However, he wasn’t opposed to choking him until he passed out.  An unconscious man tends to be much calmer, Sebastian knew that from experience.  He leaned into Jim, their lips almost touching.  “You’re playing a deadly game...boss.  Now I’d let go of the fucking knife if you want to breathe again.”  His voice was a low raspy whisper.

The smile nearly disappeared.  Nearly.  There was still a remnant as he gasped.  Sebastian was threatening, he’d give him that.  The light-headedness was a nice sensation, almost knocking him to his wits.  When he opened his eyes, Sebastian was daringly close.  Jim twirled the knife around in his hand, so that it pointed at him.  “Eheh,” he choked out.  “Check.”  He loved chess, but even more so when played with people.  If he were to continue strangling him, he could cut his arm at any point.  Maybe not enough for him to let go, but enough to do something.  The voice in the back of his head came back.  ‘He’s close, can’t you feel his heartbeat…’, and he could.  It was elevated.  

This time it was Sebastian’s turn to laugh.  “You think a little knick is going to stop me?  Jim, I can crush your windpipe right now.”  He tightened his grip to drive the point home.  “Make me bleed.” he dared, grinning, his face still dangerously close to the other’s.  “It won’t stop a thing.”  His heart was racing as blood rushed through his whole body.  He felt so alive when he was in danger and close to death.  It’s the only way he wanted to live.  The adrenaline pumping through him.  It was the best feeling.  It’s why he did what he did.  

“I-told...you not-to call-me...Jim.” He choked on his own name.  He did as best he could to drive the knife into Sebastian’s arm, and watched him get off on it.  He saw Sebastian’s eyes light up.  And for a moment, he was glad he was the one that did it.  After that, he let go of the dagger, and allowed himself one last look at the sniper, if he were not to release his hold on his neck.  Nevertheless, if felt like he was riding a wave.  A dangerous, oxygen deprivation induced wave.    
Sebastian hissed at the stab.  He could sew it up later, he decided.  HIs whole arm began to burn as he felt blood running down to his hand.  This made his head spin just from the rush.  He was used to pain, and far worse.  As he heard the dagger clink on the kitchen floor, he let go of Jim’s neck, sitting up.  His breathing was heavy and he just noticed the light layer of sweat across his brow.  

Jim gasped for the breath he did not have.  His own hand went up to his neck, lightly touching it.  Looking over at Sebastian, he coughed desperately.  That stupid smile was returning, but this time it was more genuine, like he had just enjoyed every moment of what just happened.  Which, he had.  Taking a few minutes to regain his breath, he began snickering as he coughed.  


	5. Chapter 5

He wheezed out his next words.  “Sebby, oh you will be perfect,” Jim nearly gleamed at him.  Sebastian had driven the insanity away, and in the process, given him a wonderful time.  Letting him get just mad enough before returning him to the real world.  Diving into a fit of coughing, Sebastian was cradling his arm.  

“Yeah, well, this is going to need stitches,” he chuckled to himself.  “You certainly know how to pack a mean punch.  Not what I was expecting.”  

Jim Moriarty was now coughing, wheezing, and laughing all at the same time.  For Sebastian, it was quite a sight to see, knowing the most dangerous criminal in London, possibly the world, was on the floor with tears in his eyes from joy and maybe some asphyxiation.  Okay, a lot of asphyxiation.  But he seemed to be handling it well, coughing yes, but not dying...thankfully.  

“Heh,” Jim’s voice was raspy, “Help me up.” 

Even in his weakened state, the command was full of authority.  Sebastian moved to give him a hand, well, the hand that wasn’t covered in blood pouring from his arm.  Feebly taking it, Sebastian pulled him up easily. 

After steadying himself, Jim staggered to the bathroom closest to Sebastian’s room.  He held himself up while looking for something in the cabinets, by holding on to the counter.  Looking up, he muttered something in what sounded to be Gaelic.  Instead of asking for help, he said instead, “It’s up there.”  and sat down on the toilet, with his face in his hands, muttering about being too short.  

Sebastian looked up at the top of the cabinet to see a first aid kit.  Pulling it down, he managed to see that there were sterile needles and thread.  Shaking his head, he should have known Jim would be prepared for anything.  He took it out and opened up the packaged needle.  

Upon seeing this Jim stood up, a bit too fast, and teetered over.  “No,” his Irish accent was thicker than normal, because of his voice coming back, Sebastian figured.  “Let me.”

And with that, Jim expertly took the needle and thread it.  Setting it aside, he began, to Sebastian’s surprise, gently cleanse the wound.  Taking a soft cloth and warm water, he patted the blood away.  The cut was deeper than Sebastian expected it to be.  Good thing he wasn’t squeamish.  

Jim was chattering along as he cleaned, talking about how the house was entirely blood proof, however the only soundproof room in the house was the one down the hall.  “Specifically designed to look comfortable with a considerable edge to it.” he said.  

Sebastian winced once, when the needle went through the first time.  Been a while since there was an event where he actually needed stitches instead of just a bandage over it.  As Jim sewed, Sebastian looked at the strange man.  He was mad, completely nuts, but he made it charming… 

The last stitch went through and Jim tied it up, sitting back admiring his work.  Sebastian had to admit, he was good.  Must’ve been into the medical stuff before, he reasoned.  

Moriarty continued to talk, waving his hand about as he did so, until he started walking, more stably it seemed, to the living room.  

“Do you need me to clean that up..Boss?”  Sebastian asked, stopping to look down at all the blood he seemed to have lost.  

“Do not bother yourself with such.  I’ll have someone by soon to clean it.”  Moriarty said, digging in the top of the fridge, himself not even going through the bottom compartment.  Pulling out what looked to be a turkey sandwich, he saw Sebastian shrug.  “Eat something.”  He took a bite and chewed.  After swallowing he continued, “preferably rich in iron.  I’m sending you out on a hit tomorrow.”  

Sebastian walked over to the fridge and began digging for something meaty and premade.  “I thought you had said Monday?” he asked him, raising an eyebrow.    
Moriarty waved a hand at him and didn’t bat an eye.  “I changed my mind.  I have someone else I’m thinking of.”  

“Which is..?” Sebastian asked when Jim didn’t elaborate.  He watched the smaller man finish his turkey sandwich, look in the fridge again, after Sebastian didn’t find anything, and promptly turn on his heel, with no answer.  

“Right,” Sebastian said to himself, watching his boss walk away.  

Busying himself with some mental notes about the flat, or what looked to be an entire floor of the building, he began to wander down the hall Jim had pointed to earlier.  “Soundproof room…” he muttered.  He could only imagine the things that happened there.  Interrogation, torture, and the like… He almost wondered if Jim had ever-

“We’re going out.” came a voice from behind.  Specifically Jim’s voice.  Turning around from going down the corridor, he looked at Moriarty.  He had on a navy blue suit, presumably something expensive, and a black coat.  Not a trench, like the typical criminal would wear, but just something to keep him warm enough.  The whole thing fit him perfectly, but the most striking thing was the sunglasses.  He had on a pair of Aviators that matched his dark hair, in which not a strand was out of place.  He looked more like a model than a consulting criminal, Sebastian decided.  Before he could place any of these thoughts and why he noticed these things, Jim was walking towards the front door.  “Put on a coat, I have one for you in the closet to cover up...that.” He looked at him over the rims of his glasses, eyeing him up and down.  Sebastian hadn’t even noticed his shirt drying with crusted blood.  

“Sure, yeah…” he followed his boss to where the front door was and where the closet was.  Looking inside he pulled out the only thing that looked like it might fit.  It was also a black jacket, however shorter, and more suited to him.  The inside felt like silk as he slipped it on, a strange feeling for a sniper.  He was used to his military uniforms and his short sleeved tee-shirts.  Zipping it up he looked at Jim.  “Where are we going?”  

“Market.  I’m out of sandwiches.”  Jim replied.  He began walking down to the elevator.  Yes, he did not like the mundane and domestic task of grocery shopping, but Sebastian had no idea what type of food he liked, or where he went.  Suddenly a right hand man seemed like more work than what he was worth.    
No, Jim decided, he will pay off.  He saved me this time.  

Without any sentiment on his face, he looked back and saw Sebastian running his hands through his hair and trying to tame it.  He smirked at the sniper.  It was like having a pet, Jim supposed.  The pet name tiger ran through his mind for a split second, before he quieted the voice.  Perhaps he would turn out to be more than a pet, but for now, he was a risk for sentiment.  

“Thought you didn’t like going out.”  Sebastian muttered.  Semi-hoping his new boss wouldn’t hear him. 

Jim heard.  And corrected him; “I don’t like shopping for food, I like going out, and I like shopping, but not so when it involves the mundane.”    
“Right, so, why are you going then?  Coulda just made me a list.” he suggested.  

Moriarty scoffed at the thought.  “No.” he said.  “That sounds even more domestic.” 

Once on the elevator, they were quiet.  Sebastian began staring at the man, without even realizing.  That is, until Jim glanced over.  

Sebastian, realizing the rude gesture of staring, coughed slightly and looked ahead, clasping his hands in front of him.  Once the elevator opened Jim was greeted by what looked to be one of his.  

“Sir,” the man standing in all black motioned to salute.  

Jim rolled his eyes at the man.  He turned to mention to Moran, “You military personnel.  Such formalities.  Not that I don’t like it, it’s just a bit much, don’t you think?”  His otherwise normal Irish tone turned terribly sarcastic, and he rolled his head back, to look at the ceiling in seeming plea to a God Sebastian knew he didn’t believe in.  “Put the hand down, Davies.”  he said, once he returned his gaze to the man, plopping a piece of gum into his mouth.  

“Right, sir.” he all of a sudden became timid and nearly sheepish.  

“What do you want.” Jim asked nonchalantly. 

“There’s been a safety breach.” Davies said, regaining some of his confidence.  

“Well then I would get it fixed if I were you.” Jim told the man, raising his eyebrows and chewing his gum rather obnoxiously.  “Because if you don’t, well, you know…” he trailed off, and began walking past him.  Sebastian followed, brushing past the man named Davies.  He briefly saw him nodding his head.     


End file.
